Her eyes flashed. “Yes. They know my name, and they know I’m associated with whoever it is who was shot, so they’ve given me hell every time I’ve come into the hospital.”
He frowned as anger raced through his system. Assholes. If he were able— But he wouldn’t be for a while. Damn it. “What did you come to tell me?”
“Ian has discovered a pattern of missing boys all over Baghdad. He has a lead on who’s responsible and where they may be taking them, but he needs a military contact who can help should he get into trouble.”
“Holy shit,” Brett breathed. The son of a bitch had really done it. “Has he found the kid?”
“No, not yet. But he’s documented a pattern of disappearances and must have interviewed some people in the government and the Iraqi military. He says they’ve written these boys off as casualties of war. He’s written a piece and sent it to the AP. And he needs backup before he follows the thread he’s discovered to who may have taken them and where.”
“I have someone in mind, but I’d like to talk to Hawk and see if he concurs.”
“Ian will be going to see Sanjay’s parents tomorrow. He said he’d call me for the name tomorrow morning.”
“Can I borrow your phone to make the call now?” he asked.
She fished inside her bag and came up with her cell. She hesitated before she crossed the distance between them and extended it to him. Up close, the dark circles beneath her eyes stood out like bruises. She looked tired. He accepted the phone and caught her wrist when she would have stepped away.
“Tess—”
“Save it. You got what you wanted. Ian got what he wanted. And I learned a valuable lesson.”
“And what was that?”
“Don’t ever-ever allow another man close who wants to meet my father for any reason. At least this time I was smart enough not to sleep with you.” She jerked away, moved to the window to look out, and folded her arms.
Brett’s heart skipped a beat. If there were a sniper on any of the structures close by—“Get away from the window, Tess.”
Her features tensed at the sharpness of his tone, and she jerked her chin up. Stepping away from the window with a slow sway of her hips, she shot him a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder.
Once she was safe from the immediate threat, his mind leapt back to what she’d just said. This time? This time? Jealousy clamped down on his lungs and for several moments, he couldn’t breathe. Some other guy had sex with her to get an introduction to her father? Jesus, he’d kill the fucker.
He pushed his hand against his side and strode to her with as natural a gait as he could manage. “What do you mean this time?”
“Fuck you, Brett Weaver. It’s none of your damn business.”
Whoa—He’d never heard her swear before. Her eyes had grown dark, her lips tightened, and tears started to give her eyes a glaze.
“If he slept with you just to meet your father, he was a fucking fool, Tess. Your father’s an asshole.”
She made a choking sound, and then laughed. And laughed. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. He didn’t know whether he should laugh with her or just wait until the storm passed. When she finally stopped and drew a deep breath, she had tears in her eyes. She wiped away the moisture with the back of her hand. ‘That asshole may just save your bacon, if he doesn’t get killed first.”
Was worry over her father what had brought that drawn look to her features? What am I missing here?
“Why did you hang around until I came out of surgery?”
“You’d just been shot. Did you really expect that I’d just go home and wait for word?”
“It wasn’t for the story?”
“What story, Brett? I’ve written all I can about what happened. Sure, they may release your name and your mother’s, but now the story will revolve around the attempts to capture the shooter. You’ve had your fifteen minutes of fame.”
Wow—Talk about a reality check. He flinched as another thought hit him. Hard. He’d misjudged her motives for staying at the hospital. And given her hell. He’d allowed his anger to cloud his judgment. Shit, he’d really screwed up.
He ran a hand over his jaw. “I behaved like an asshole night before last.”
“You’ve been behaving like an asshole for the last week. In fact, you and my father should compare notes.” The pain in her expression had guilt slapping him upside the head. Had he done such a bad job before of showing her how he felt, telling her how he felt? Going five days without calling, then jumping down her throat over the story hadn’t exactly shown her anything but how big a prick he could be. How could he fix this?
He raked his fingers over his close-cropped hair. “I didn’t call because I was too busy beating myself up for giving your father the info.”
“So you took it out on me by not calling.”
“Yeah, I did. But I didn’t not call because I didn’t want to see you.” Exhaustion suddenly weighted his limbs and he eased back onto the edge of the bed. He turned the phone over and over in his hands. Could he trust her? The hurt he’d read in her features only moments before gave him a sharp jab.
“I have this anger thing.” He swallowed. “I’ve been angry ever since I woke up from the coma. And when I get angry, I want to punch something. I’ve seen what that kind of anger can do to the people around you.” Jesus, I will not become Derrick Armstrong.
“And you were angry with my father for not living up to your expectations, and angry with me for looping you into a situation where you spilled what you felt were secrets.”
“We don’t talk about what we do, Tess. Never.”
She sat down next to him. “You’d never raise your hand to a woman, Brett. As protective as you are of your mother and sister … ” She shook her head. “No way. But you can’t keep shutting down and holding all that rage inside. It isn’t healthy.”
“What would you suggest?” he asked.
She remained silent for a moment. “Would it really be that scary to let it out?”
“With my CO, it could get me court-martialed.”
“But if you’d come to me a week ago and we’d had this discussion, you’d have probably gotten laid.” She stood up and shrugged her shoulders again. “Your loss.”
Brett tossed her phone on the bed and, catching her hand, scrambled to his feet as quickly as his injury would allow. “I’m sorry, Tess.”
She studied his face, her gaze narrowed, probing. “Are you sorry because you screwed up, or because you didn’t get to have sex?”
If he smiled, she’d punch him. Well, as long as she didn’t hit him where he’d been shot, he’d be okay. “Actually both.” He drew as deep a breath as his side would let him and grew serious. He tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes so she’d know he spoke the truth. “But mostly because I hurt you and made you think I was as big an asshole as your father, and the other guy who hurt you. I’m not that guy, Tess.”
Tears ran down her cheeks and she turned her face away. “It sure felt like you were.”
At the sight of her dark eyes wet with tears, a knot formed in his stomach. He peeled the bag from her shoulder, dropped it to the floor, then drew her against him. “I’ll promise not to close myself off from you when I’m angry, if you’ll do the same.”
When she went completely still, he tensed. Had he said too much?
***
Tess listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. That strong rhythm soothed her. Heat seemed to radiate off him. She drew back with a frown and laid the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re running a fever.” Her stomach tightened as concern hit her. She’d been harping at him, and he’d been running a fever. But he’d deserved to be harped at for treating her just as her father did.
“They’re going to hook me back up to an IV and start giving me fluids and antibiotics again.”
She bit her lip. “Don’t you think you need to lie down and rest?”
“You could lie with
me.” He cupped her hips and tugged her with him as he sat down.
Standing between his legs, her own temperature spiked at the thought. “That won’t really encourage you to rest.”
He raised one brow and grinned.
When he smiled like that, she saw the reckless, sexy side to him that had drawn her from the moment she’d first seen him. “You really need to relax and let your side mend, Brett.”
“I was going to shave. Would you like to help?”
Desire shot through her at the idea of touching him so intimately, quickening her heartbeat and making her breathing choppy. She cupped his cheek and ran a thumb over the rough stubble darkening his chin. “Yes.”
The look in his eyes intensified that tempting, empty ache. Emotion rose high in her throat and took her breath. She loved him. The realization weakened her knees. She dragged air into her lungs. But could he love her? She swallowed. “Are you sure you trust me?”
“You know things about me even my mother and sister don’t. What do you think?”
He was talking about the PTSD and the anger issues. Issues that could end his career should they come to the attention of the wrong person. If he could trust her with his secrets, surely he could love her. She cupped his jaw and bent to press her lips to his. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Tess.” He tried to pull her down into his lap, but she resisted.
“Let’s make you more comfortable with a shave.”
His blue gaze latched onto her with such intensity that an aching heat settled between her thighs and she grew breathless. She took his hand as it rested on her hip and tugged him to his feet, then drew a chair close to the sink and urged him sit.
She reached for the shaving cream and sprayed the foam into her hand. She hesitated, uncertain.
Brett’s grin was both challenge and temptation.
Her fingers followed the strong structure of his jaw and chin, spreading the foam over his beard. She ran warm water into the sink and picked up the plastic razor. “I was very angry with you when I first got here. Are you sure you’re okay with me standing over you with a razor my hand?”
He studied her expression. “You’re not going to hurt me.”
Pressing the razor’s blade against his skin gave her a sense of both control and anxiety. She wouldn’t nick his handsome face for the world. She loved his face. Concentrating on each area, she studied every angle and slope as she scraped away the dark brown whiskers. His jaw was decidedly masculine. His chin had a faint hint of a cleft. And his lips surrounded by the foam were a prime example of how male lips should be structured. She knew from firsthand experience how they could be firm yet soft when they trailed over her skin.
“You keep looking at me like that, Tess, we’re going the give the nurse a shock.”
Heat climbed into her cheeks. “I’m just concentrating on what I’m doing. I don’t want to nick you.”
He raised one brow. “Uh-huh.”
She tilted his chin up and scraped the blade along the stretched skin beneath. When she’d rinsed the blade for the last time and set it aside, she wet a hand towel and wiped the last of the foam from his face.
Brett was on his feet before she realized he was going to rise. His body brushed all the way along the length of hers, his arousal blatant as he tugged her close. He worked a hand beneath her sweater to cup her breast, at the same time lowering his lips to her bare shoulder. She caught back a groan as his teeth scraped, with careful pressure, the tender skin between her neck and shoulder. She shivered and pushed against his erection. The gentle pinch and tug of his fingers as they played with her nipple drove her need to a fever pitch. She wanted to spread her legs and take him in now.
She dropped the towel to cup the back of his head and thread her fingers through his hair. His mouth turned to hers and his tongue delved into her mouth as though hungry for contact. She sucked on it and he groaned, the vibration of the sound triggering a whimper of her own.
The William Tell Overture played from the bed, and she broke from the kiss. “Oh my God, I forgot about Ian.”
CHAPTER 28
Yasin sat on the edge of the bed opposite Levla and pressed the heels of his hands against his aching eyes. He had been furious with her after listening to the whole story. Why had she not told him the truth about Sanjay? For his insolence toward his mother, he’d have punished him. For striking her, he would have certainly done so. But to lie and say she hadn’t seen him after the SEALs had delivered him to the house, Dear Allah.
She blamed herself for allowing him to leave the house. Blamed herself for his disappearance. She’d grown thin and withdrawn in the last five months. The guilt continued to eat at her. She left the house with two of the servants every day searching for their son. While I continued to work just as I did before Sanjay’s disappearance. Why have I not been searching with her?
Because I had already decided what had happened. He had believed his son dead. And now he was afraid to believe he might still be alive.
And where was Sanjay? Had he run away that day, afraid of being punished for his disrespect? Or had he been taken, as Levla believed?
Would she have ever told him had the American reporter not come to their home and asked to speak with him about Sanjay? And what would he say to the man when he arrived in a few minutes?
Levla sat up on the edge of the bed, her back to him. “Will you allow me to speak to the American reporter?” she asked.
“I will be there with you. So, yes, you may speak to him, if you wish.”
After a pause she asked, “What will you do about the man you spoke with in America?”
How could he stop Tabarek’s jihad against the SEALs without exposing his own involvement?
He couldn’t. He had condemned innocent men to death. But they were not innocent of killing Tabarek’s brother. They had blown up the building he was in. But his brother had also been a member of the Taliban and had probably created bombs to kill the Americans.
“There is nothing I can do, Levla.”
He had become judge and executioner to men who had done his son no harm. He would have to learn to live with that. Unless Tabarek was captured and unable to finish what he had started. If Tabarek confessed and named his conspirators, he, Yasin, would pay for his part in the whole plot. As much as Tabarek hated the Americans, perhaps he would remain silent. And Allah would forgive him for directing his anger and grief at men who had not wronged him.
But who had taken Sanjay?
The American reporter had told one of the servants he had stories of other missing boys taken off the streets. And what did this American reporter hope to do about it?
“He called you a traitor to your people. He said he was ashamed to call you father. And I struck him. He would have hit me in the face had I not turned aside.” Her voice sounded hoarse with pain.
He had heard this the night before. His pain crouched like a cancer, eating at his insides. Were these things spoken out of anger because he had not accompanied Sanjay home? What had happened that had made Sanjay see what he was trying to accomplish as something shameful? The businesses he was directing were growing, and their profits were helping his people rebuild. Why couldn’t Sanjay see that?
“It is my fault that he is gone,” Levla said.
When she had first told him of their argument, he had been angry with her. Now he’d thought things through and realized there would have been nothing she could have done to stop Sanjay from leaving.
“It is Sanjay’s fault for being disrespectful to us both. It is his fault for allowing his anger to control him. And for leaving our home when he knows how dangerous the streets are when traveled alone. How many times have we cautioned him?”
And why had he not moved his family to a safer area? Because there were no safe areas.
“I am afraid to believe he is alive and cannot or will not come home to us, Yasin.”
The anguish he heard in her voice ratcheted up his own despair. “We wi
ll listen to what the reporter has to say and decide what is to be done.” He rose to his feet and moved around the bed to where she sat. He knelt to take her hands in his and bent his head to touch his lips to her palms. “I have worked with many of the American base commanders, Levla. I will persuade Captain Morrow to help find Sanjay. He has already been attempting to do so.”
The hope he read in her face brought an ache to his chest. Hope was as cruel as death. What would it do to her, if they could not find their son?
“Baba, there are two men here to see you,” Amira, their daughter, said from the open doorway. “Hakim says one is the same man who came here looking for you yesterday.”
“Thank you, Amira.” He rose to his feet and offered Levla his hand.
Her fingers were cold and she was trembling.
He rested his hand against her waist as they left the bedroom and walked down the hall to the formal living room where they received visitors. The only time he used this room was to entertain guests. The less formal living area for the family was next door. He eyed the stiff, formal furnishings without interest.
The tall man who rose to his feet looked imposing because of his height and the intensity of his expression. His bright red hair and beard looked so American. Another man, an Iraqi, stood beside him.
“I am Yasin al-Yussuf. This is my wife Levla.”
Both men shook his hand and tipped their heads to Levla.
The red-haired man said, “My name is Ian Kelly and this is Ahmed Hannah, a reporter for Al Zaman.”
“Please sit down.” Yasin motioned to the two large chairs and guided Levla to the long couch positioned against the interior wall of the room away from the windows. How long would it be before they no longer had to live in fear of a bomb blast or stray bullet? “What do you wish to ask?”
“We have been all over the city and have learned about many missing boys, just like your son, Mr. al-Yussuf,” Ian said.
Yasin had heard the rumors, but had not believed Sanjay was one of the boys. “Yes?”
“Ahmed and I want to bring enough attention to this issue that the American military will become involved and help find the boys. They have the technology and the resources. I’ve already been to the Iraqi police and spoken with several members of the government.” His features creased in a frown. “I’m afraid this may not be one of their top priorities. They are overwhelmed.”
Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) Page 27
